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rainbowfic2014-01-08 12:59 am
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2014-01-08 12:59 am
Admin Yellow 7: when morning came (it felt like truth)
Author: Kat
Title: when morning came (it felt like truth)
Story: Shine Like It Does
Colors: Admin yellow 7 (That line you're talking about? I crossed it a long time ago.)
Supplies and Materials: Graffiti (I'll have seconds), fingerpainting (fucking second person), brush (fraught), stain (“Lose your mind and come to your senses.” - Frederick S. Perls), sculpture, miniature collection, novelty beads (Shall we dance? Shall we then say 'goodnight' and mean 'goodbye'?)
Word Count: 590
Rating: PG
Summary: You do not get to keep her.
Warnings: excessively vague sexytimes
Notes: Watch Kat be pretentious with titles! This story is largely the fault of Savage Garden, Matt Nathanson, and Drew Sarich. Free drabbles to anyone who guesses which songs in particular.
You do not get to keep her.
You've always known that, somewhere in the back of your head. She's not exactly the sort of person that people keep. She's sharp eyes and a clever mouth and perfectly arched eyebrows, beauty and disdain and intelligence all overlaid with elegance. You shouldn't even have asked her out to begin with.
But you did.
It was something in the lift of her head, the way she pulled her hair back and massaged the muscles of her neck. You wanted to kiss her there, at the top knob of her spine where the muscles wind tight as wires. You looked down at your paperwork instead.
And then dancing with her, after she said yes. She wore a purple dress and laughed up at you, and you were enchanted; you'd never heard her laugh before. You'd never seen her having fun, and she was beautiful. You think you fell in love her then, spinning her around and watching her laugh.
Don't expect much, she said, after that first date, as you walked her to her car. I'm not one for relationships.
You didn't expect anything, and you told her so. She smiled at you then, and let you kiss her. You were too happy that there might be something to expect that you hardly remembered anything more, lost in her smile and the sweetness of her mouth.
Don't expect much.
You should have kept that in mind.
It was a little odd, how quickly she went to bed with you, but it's not as if you mind, and she was just as beautiful there, all ivory-gold skin and tumbling black hair. She laughed in bed too, her mouth against the skin of your side. She liked to wear complicated lingerie under slouchy sweaters, and one bright morning you woke up and she was wearing one of your shirts, drinking from your coffee cup, her hip against your shoulder.
She was everything you ever wanted. You knew she wouldn't stay.
And she's laughing at you now, that sweet pretty mouth twisted, white teeth sharp against her lip. You poor silly man, what did you think this was?
What did you think it was? She never let you see her, not really. She was nude with you but never naked; you never saw more than a tenth of her, and not even a hundredth of the tenderness she shows her brother and sister. She gave you her body, but never her heart.
You knew you'd never get to keep her.
You fell in love with her anyway.
The tenderness was not for you, but you saw it. The kindness and the generosity she tries so hard to hide, the loneliness and the grief. None of it was for you, but you saw it anyway, and you loved it, loved her. You love her now, when she's laughing at you, brittle and sharp-edged. She's cutting your heart out and you don't think that you'll ever stop loving her.
Don't expect much, she said, and you didn't. You do not get to keep her and you knew that from the start. You do not keep a hawk on a string; you cannot keep her that way either.
But it was never really about expectations, was it? It was never really about her body, or her clever mouth—it was the way she laughed, the things she hid, your shirt half-buttoned over her bare breasts on a Saturday morning.
It was just sex, she says now.
You don't believe her.
Title: when morning came (it felt like truth)
Story: Shine Like It Does
Colors: Admin yellow 7 (That line you're talking about? I crossed it a long time ago.)
Supplies and Materials: Graffiti (I'll have seconds), fingerpainting (fucking second person), brush (fraught), stain (“Lose your mind and come to your senses.” - Frederick S. Perls), sculpture, miniature collection, novelty beads (Shall we dance? Shall we then say 'goodnight' and mean 'goodbye'?)
Word Count: 590
Rating: PG
Summary: You do not get to keep her.
Warnings: excessively vague sexytimes
Notes: Watch Kat be pretentious with titles! This story is largely the fault of Savage Garden, Matt Nathanson, and Drew Sarich. Free drabbles to anyone who guesses which songs in particular.
You do not get to keep her.
You've always known that, somewhere in the back of your head. She's not exactly the sort of person that people keep. She's sharp eyes and a clever mouth and perfectly arched eyebrows, beauty and disdain and intelligence all overlaid with elegance. You shouldn't even have asked her out to begin with.
But you did.
It was something in the lift of her head, the way she pulled her hair back and massaged the muscles of her neck. You wanted to kiss her there, at the top knob of her spine where the muscles wind tight as wires. You looked down at your paperwork instead.
And then dancing with her, after she said yes. She wore a purple dress and laughed up at you, and you were enchanted; you'd never heard her laugh before. You'd never seen her having fun, and she was beautiful. You think you fell in love her then, spinning her around and watching her laugh.
Don't expect much, she said, after that first date, as you walked her to her car. I'm not one for relationships.
You didn't expect anything, and you told her so. She smiled at you then, and let you kiss her. You were too happy that there might be something to expect that you hardly remembered anything more, lost in her smile and the sweetness of her mouth.
Don't expect much.
You should have kept that in mind.
It was a little odd, how quickly she went to bed with you, but it's not as if you mind, and she was just as beautiful there, all ivory-gold skin and tumbling black hair. She laughed in bed too, her mouth against the skin of your side. She liked to wear complicated lingerie under slouchy sweaters, and one bright morning you woke up and she was wearing one of your shirts, drinking from your coffee cup, her hip against your shoulder.
She was everything you ever wanted. You knew she wouldn't stay.
And she's laughing at you now, that sweet pretty mouth twisted, white teeth sharp against her lip. You poor silly man, what did you think this was?
What did you think it was? She never let you see her, not really. She was nude with you but never naked; you never saw more than a tenth of her, and not even a hundredth of the tenderness she shows her brother and sister. She gave you her body, but never her heart.
You knew you'd never get to keep her.
You fell in love with her anyway.
The tenderness was not for you, but you saw it. The kindness and the generosity she tries so hard to hide, the loneliness and the grief. None of it was for you, but you saw it anyway, and you loved it, loved her. You love her now, when she's laughing at you, brittle and sharp-edged. She's cutting your heart out and you don't think that you'll ever stop loving her.
Don't expect much, she said, and you didn't. You do not get to keep her and you knew that from the start. You do not keep a hawk on a string; you cannot keep her that way either.
But it was never really about expectations, was it? It was never really about her body, or her clever mouth—it was the way she laughed, the things she hid, your shirt half-buttoned over her bare breasts on a Saturday morning.
It was just sex, she says now.
You don't believe her.